The Dusk That Falls At Dawn
by ingridsuperstar
Summary: She wasn't ready to let him go. He wasn't ready to abandon her. But the world wouldn't wait.


I gave this story a try a long, long time ago. But I just don't have the heart to give up on it. Because it is epic, straight up epic I tell you. I promise it won't disappoint. This is my first go in the magical realm that is Harry Potter. And I'll tell you right now, this story is dark. Not rainbows, butterflies and laughter. If you can run with this, then I really think you will enjoy it. Disregard all of the seventh book before reading. Horcruxes will be involved, but not in the way that good ole J.K. set up for us. This takes place during, what would have been, the trio's seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Happy readings.

**Stupid, unnecessary legal claim**: I own nothing. Weasley is my King.

_The Dusk That Falls At Dawn_

"In the dark, I can hear your heartbeat.  
>I tried to find the sound.<br>But then it stopped and I was in the darkness.  
>So darkness I became."<br>- _Cosmic Love_, Florence and The Machine

* * *

><p>This night would be the twenty-third night it rained at Hogwarts. And it certainly, I would guess, would not be the last.<p>

I took another long swig from the flask of firewhiskey that I kept cleverly hidden underneath my mattress. It was nighttime, or so I presumed. From what I could see from the view from my bed, the sky was dark and ominous outside the window. Of course, the sky was dark and ominous during breakfast hours these days. Rain was becoming habitual. The thunderous roars and white streaks of lightening were like a sort of lullaby to me now. It was something all of the remaining students at Hogwarts had become accustomed to. Even the meek first years, what was left of them anyway, stopped sniveling every time lightening touched ground outside the castle walls. Everyone was trying to remain optimistic about the changing weather patterns, but I knew. The optimists knew. Anyone who read the damn papers knew.

It wasn't just bizarre weather patterns that were the cause of the drear.

He had taken over the skies.

Another sip of my firewhiskey.

I pulled the flask closer to my chest, and adjusted my numbing position on the bed. It seemed like hours since I had moved at all. I was alone, my only company the ticking of the large droning grandfather clock that sat in the shadows on the opposite side of the room. Last time I checked, it was around seven thirty. It was too dark to read the time now, but honestly, I didn't care either way. Time was something I rarely concerned myself with now.

Reluctantly, my eyes drifted from the hands of the clocks to the tidily-made bed below it.

It had been Parvati's.

I used to pray for the day that that pompous, balloon-brained girl would shut it long enough to realize that there were more important things going on in the world than getting expensive new robes from Paris, or snogging in the Hufflepuff boy's lavatory.

And now, I could hardly remember what she looked like at all. And she had only been gone a few months, maybe less.

The Patil twins were among the first to go. The minute Hogwarts was deemed unworthy for the safety of their children, parents began to withdrawal their kids by the train loads. With Dumbledore dead, and, bless her soul, Professor McGonagall in charge, Hogwarts had become a target in the cross hairs of the Black Army. God, I hated that designation.

My other bedchamber mates, Fay and Lavender, were gone shortly after Parvati. I was officially the oldest Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Most of the younger classmen's parents didn't allow their children to return for the fall; there were only a handful of first years enrolled and sorted this year. In terms past, the corridors and courtyards would be over capacity with students. Now, you could go a whole day without so much as speaking to a fellow student. At dinner, laughter and chatter were replaced with this eerily silence one couldn't shake. Every scrape of a fork on a plate, every clink of a goblet seemed to echo off of the walls. And everyone was on edge, like they were just waiting for something to come crashing in from the rafters and it would all be over.

Notably, the entire house of the cunning and ambitious Slytherin had emptied. The last time I was at dinner, I counted three, _three _students at their house table.

In fact, the only students still enrolled for my seventh year, my _last _year as a student in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were those whose parents were believers. They believed that Dumbledore was still in control of the castle, even after death. I suppose that explains why there were few here now.

It was getting harder and harder to believe that everything was going to be alright, when everything was so wrecked, and only getting worse by the day.

Another slower, much longer swig of my firewhiskey.

And that's when I began to let my mind wander, something I couldn't allow myself to do these days. But it was so tempting. Sickening, it was, the way my heart lightened just to even think.

I half expected tears to swell my eyes, but none ever did. It sounds cavalier, but I was emotionally drained. I suppose in the first few weeks after the fallout, I used up everything inside of me that it would take to mourn the loss of a person. But I wonder, can you mourn someone who isn't dead? At least, not presently.

This was unhealthy thinking, and I knew it.

I brought the brass flask up to my mouth, and much to my dismay, it was almost empty.

"Damn it." I muttered under my breath.

Of course, I knew my supply had not run out completely. I was, after all, Head Girl. A position that I took great pride from, before all of this happened. Being held in such high esteem, it was nothing for me to wander into the kitchens of Hogwarts after hours. No one would ever suspect that the celebrated Hermione Granger would ever go down into the cellars, and knick bottles upon bottles of the stuff in her robes. It was just ludicrous.

Yet, here I was.

I honestly couldn't remember the last time I felt anything, any emotion at all. Before all that had happened, I had never taken a sip of anything so toxic in my life. And now, I am ashamed to admit, even to myself, that I couldn't live without the stuff. It was the only thing, the _only thing_ that kept the demons at bay.

Making note to myself that I would assuredly have to sneak down for a run for it tonight, I sat the flask down on the nightstand beside me. There was nothing to soothe me. I was now ultimately alone for the time being. I rolled over, quite difficult for me lately, on my back. The dark ceiling seemed to move in swirls. I wanted nothing more than slumber.

Why I was so damn tired was beyond all knowledge.

From childhood, we are taught that the more sleep you get, the more inactivity you pursue, the more energy is saved and you become less tired when it all wears off. I now know from experience now that that was completely false. I hadn't moved in hours, I had slept for days and I was interminably exhausted.

My eyes began to drift shut, just for a moment.

Soon, I was home. I was where I was supposed to be. My forehead was pressed up against rough skin, my nose just in the crook of his neck. His smell was hitting me in wafts. Then reality took hold, as it always did, and soon it would all be over. Just as it was every morning.

I was suddenly transported, to what seemed like worlds back. The laughter, the cheerfulness of that faithful night. I remembered it vividly.

* * *

><p>Perfectly, ordinarily October, the four of us sat in the Gryffindor common room. The two boys, the brilliant redhead and the quiet boy in glasses, were engaged in a riveting conversation about Quidditch. Ginny and I pretended to care, but secretly giggled when we knew one of them didn't know what they were talking about.<p>

Now I had never been one for public displays of affections. But, being a seventh year and Head Girl, I found it difficult to care. Besides, it had been such a lovely evening. Dinner was prompt. As soon as I had ushered a few of the still quite confused first year Gryffindors back to their common room, I knew of no place I would rather be.

That's why I had absolutely no qualms about being perched in Ronald Weasley's lap, as he lounged in the great mahogany chair. Ginny sat in between Harry's legs on the floor, him on the sofa.

"Harry, that's bogus and you know it. There's no way in this lifetime or the next that Switzerland will ever be worth anything. That whole country is a load of crock. Even their name sounds like something you sneeze out." The seriousness of Ron's voice was enough to make Ginny and I lock eyes, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide our laughter.

Harry shook his head, smiling. "I disagree, Ron. Last year, the game against South Africa, if the wizard refs hadn't been nodding off on the job, they would have owned that game."

Ron made some unintelligible grumble. Reaching into the pocket of his robes, he withdrew a long black something. He reached for his wand in his robs and said the incantation. Immediately, the something was lit, and hovering up towards Ron's mouth.

I scowled in disbelief. "Ronald, how many times have I **told** you that you cannot smoke Floating Cigars on the school's grounds!" It was more of an imperative statement than an actual question. "Put that out now!"

The cigar at his lips, Ron took a long puff, blowing the smoke out in my face. I gasped, and swatted it away feverishly with my hand. When the smoke cleared, Ron was staring into the face of a very angry girlfriend. I immediately leapt out of his lap. My arms were folded, and Ron always knew that was a bad sign. Although Ron always had told me that I looked so enticing when I was scolding him, which was admittingly more often than not. Ron laughed.

"Come on 'Mione, don't be such a soggy blanket. It's just one. And who is going to tell on me, if not the Head Girl?" He was taunting me, but I stood her ground. He laughed again, more heartedly. "Oy, Harry? Want a puff?"

Before Harry could accept his offer, the cigar was floating over my head, and into his mouth. He took a long drag, letting it settle in his lungs for a bit, before blowing it back out. Ginny coughed from below.

"I wish you two knew how stupid you look with that ounce of filth pumping out of your face. You look like a retarded dragon." Harry leaned down and whispered something in Ginny's ear. Her frown was instantly replaced with a sultry smile. The two kissed, and now the cigar was back in Ron's grasp.

I still hadn't moved. Though I had to admit, even to myself, that Ron didn't look stupid with the cigar. He looked downright ravishing. Of course, he could be wearing sequined robes with his hair in pigtails, and he would still do it for me. Still, I was the Head Girl for Merlin's sake! This kind of behavior wouldn't pass.

"Ron, if you don't put that away-"

"You'll what, 'Mione? Call the bloody Scotland Yard? I mean, come on. There have to be some perks to dating the school's most notorious tattletale." The look in his eyes said it all. He was playing a game with me, a game that we played all too often. We argued. We fought. And then, we made up. In the most exhilarating way. I felt myself blushing, and like vapor, the anger in me had dispersed. I smirked.

"You know very well that there are perks, Ronald."

He took another puff.

"I seem to have a nasty case of amnesia. Perhaps you should remind me of these alleged perks."

The two of us were interrupted by the gagging noise coming from behind. Harry and Ginny witnessed, in false disgust.

"The bedchambers are only a few feet away, guys."

I all too willingly returned to my spot in Ron's lap, cheeks red with embarrassment and bliss. The two typical boys continued on their tangent of which Quidditch team would make it to this year's World Cup. I leaned into Ron's neck, the most heavenly of places. This was _my _spot. No matter what was happening around us, no matter how bad things got, right here was where I felt solace. It brought tears to my eyes. Tears that I quickly wished away. Now was not the time, when things were so happy.

Harry was just about to break out a deck of enchanted cards, when a chime rang from above. We were all suddenly extraordinarily alert.

"Attention all Hogwarts students and faculty."

McGonagall's voice filled the common room.

"I apologize for the inconvenience of time, but I request all boys from fourth year and above to report to the Great Hall immediately following this announcement. I repeat, if you are a male student in Term 4 or above, please report to the Great Hall at once." The Headmistress paused for a moment, and in that moment, I could swear that I heard her whimper. "Thank you." The last two words were short and watery.

The seconds following the announcement were thick with tension.

I could feel my heartbeat in my face, and my eyes were anxiously scattered among the fearful faces around the room. The laughter and music of the common room had quickly died. Replacing it, were gasps and whispers. The eyes of every male were wide, every brow furrowed.

"What the bloody hell is that about? It's nearly midnight." Ron muttered, staring nervously at Harry. He just shook his head, eyes still fixed on the horn that McGonagall's voice had echoed out of moments before.

Before I knew it, my hands were clutching the front of Ron's sweater protectively. I tore my concentration away from the students surrounding me, and focused on his face. I was terrified and I could tell McGonagall was as well from the remorseful way she gave the announcement. Her apology for how late it was seemed deeper; it was as if she was apologizing for so much more, like for events that hadn't yet taken place. Aggravation built up inside of me. Did being Head Girl mean _nothing_ nowadays? Why hadn't I been informed? Ron swallowed loudly, and slowly turned back towards Harry.

I could feel his heart beating underneath my hands.

"Sh-shouldn't we-?" He started, and Harry quickly nodded.

"Yeah, let's go." Harry squeezed Ginny's hand as he rose up slowly from the couch. She gazed up at him fearfully, getting up from her sitting position as well. Suddenly, I felt silly for still sitting in Ron's lap. I quickly stood up, Ron following suit, and I reluctantly turned away from him. Notified or not, I was still in charge ultimately of the organization of this event.

"Alright Gryffindors! You heard the announcement!" My voice echoed loudly off of the stone walls. I unexpectedly felt quite inferior. "All fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh year boys, make your way to the Great Hall, in an orderly fashion. Third years and below, male or female, up to the bedchambers at once. Quickly now!"

There was a brief uncertainty before every upperclassman boy made their way towards the exit.

The deafening silence was exchanged with loud chitter chatter. The younger girls and boys did as they were told. All of them headed up the stairs towards their respective dormitories, all gazing down with curious faces at the assembly of boys leaving the house of Gryffindor. I spotted Lavender and Parvati over in the corner, whispering to each other.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Ron." Harry's voice felt like a knife in my back.

I whipped around. The two boys were staring intensely over my head at the crowd leaving.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Ginny spoke up, tugging at Harry's robes. He paid her no mind.

I kept my eyes on Ron, studying his every expression. He didn't say anything back to Harry; almost statuesque. Ginny was still badgering Harry for answers. I secretly didn't want her to stop. I wanted answers as well. I think that we all wanted answers at that point.

"Gin, we have to get down there quickly." The crowd of the common room was dispersing. "I'll explain everything when I get back." Double taking in the exit, he turned to her. She threw her arms around him.

Why did it feel like she was saying goodbye?

Ron brushed past me, Harry following. I suddenly felt quite disposed of, and heatedly followed their robe tails. Ron glanced over his shoulder at me. But he didn't stop.

"Hermione, what do you think you are doing?"

Damn their long legs. I felt like a small puppy trailing a disinterested owner.

"I am still Head Girl, Ron!" My voice came out much more shrill than intended. I could practically feel his eyes rolling. "It is my responsibility to patrol all Houses and get these boys to the Great Hall safely." Even coming out, the whole charade sounded stupid. It wasn't all a complete front; I was indeed to make sure every older boy in the castle was sitting in that Great Hall. But I didn't like the way Ron was acting. It was like someone flipped a switch that I wasn't aware of on. And as we passed the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw tower, I knew that he was my main priority at the moment.

We entered the grand staircase. I almost gasped in disbelief when I realized that the usually changing stairs were all completely still. This was the first time I had ever witnessed this, in my entire career at Hogwarts. All of the portraits and paintings lining the walls were empty. My heart dropped.

Because of our great speed, we were catching up to the overwhelmingly crowded stairs below. I could hear the random voices of prefects shouting directions and orders out to the multitude of young men. And all of a sudden, I felt like everything was going in slow motion. Harry began to push forward through the throng; Ron was not far behind him. I felt myself lagging behind in the crowd, and I started to call out for them, when I felt a tight, warm grasp of my hand against another. It was Ron's.

Instantly, I blushingly admit, I felt relief. It was severely hilarious, yet not the least bit funny, how someone could have this large of a hold on your heart. I didn't mind though. I still don't.

The roar of the voices of so many echoing off the walls was vociferous, and I clutched tighter to the boy's hand.

We were approaching the Great Hall; I could tell because, atop every boy's head, I could see Hagrid standing gravely above it all. He was guarding the large, stone doors that led into the gathering. Upon seeing him, we quickly rushed forward as fast as the crowd would allow us.

"Hagrid!" I heard Harry's voice cry out ahead of me. Ron still hadn't let go of my hand, for which I was grateful.

Something was off about him. Once we reached him, I could get a clear view of his face. It was rouge, his eyes tearful and coming down in huge puddles. And once he saw us, it only got worse.

"H-Hagrid, what's wrong?" I spoke up, fighting back a sob myself.

He didn't answer me. I was getting quite sick of this. Instead, he rubbed his face with the sleeve of his tattered robes. He cleared his voice, and straightened himself up. This made him at least two feet taller.

"You boys better ge' inside. S' about to start." He nodded towards the doors. I had never heard Hagrid's voice sound so… so _serious_. And suddenly, the last place I wanted Ron to step foot into was that room. My grip tightened on his hand.

"Hermione," Hagrid's harsh voice hit me like a ton of bricks. "You can't be down here. Up to the beds with yah' now." He was speaking to me as if I was a bloody first year, not the single girl with the highest power in the student body. My brows knitted together. And I stood my ground.

"What is going on here, Hagrid? I demand for answers. Everyone is frightened." I tried to keep my shaky voice as firm as possible. By everyone, I meant myself included. In fact, the look of my face was much more worried than any of the last few boys that were passing me.

But the voice that answered me wasn't Hagrid's. It was Ron's.

"'Mione," He began quietly. And I melted. "Go on up. I'll tell you everything."

That's when he let go of my hand. Hagrid was unhinging the doors' chains. Slowly, they began to shut. Harry stepped inside. "Ron, it's starting."

Ron's lips hit my forehead forcefully. Then he followed Harry down the main isle.

And I watched as the doors slammed shut. The last thing I saw was the regretful eyes of Rubeus Hagrid.

* * *

><p>Ginny was waiting for me on the sofas by the fireplace, idly sipping a cup of tea, when I returned to the Gryffindor common room some twenty minutes later. Though my position as Head Girl had been somewhat mocked in the past hour, I still checked every House for anyone left behind. Every common room was completely, and eerily, vacant.<p>

Her tea cup clinked loudly as she sat it down on the coffee table in front of her. Eyes widened, she nervously spoke. "Any word?"

I shook my head, plopping down tiredly on the couch opposite her. My hands flew into the air as I spat out bitterly, "No! I'm as clueless as everyone else!" Breathing was becoming heavy, and my chest heaved. I was so blindingly tired, and had loads and loads of homework to complete that I had put off to hang out in the common room. Now, it seemed so insignificant. I propped my head on my fist, elbow on the arm of the sofa. "I did see Hagrid though. Only it wasn't Hagrid at all, it was this different, stern guard standing outside of the Great Hall. It was like he was making sure no one except those called could get in. He sure sent me away in a hurry." I added the end exasperatingly.

Ginny's brow furrowed inquisitively. "That is strange. I don't understand why something like this couldn't wait until the morning, unless it was absolutely dire."

I nodded because I honestly had nothing productive to say to her. It was like a giant, looming elephant in the room that we just wanted to avoid completely. So I changed the subject. "Well, surely tomorrow's homework assignments will be excused. If not, I will for sure take the matter up with McGonagall."

She just picked up her tea, and took a small sip. "Surely it will be."

An awkward, aggressive silence captured the room.

And we waited.

Hours had passed. The fire that was crackling so grandly before us was now nothing but cindering ashes. I was freezing to the point of shivers in the common room. For a while, Ginny and I conversed irrelevantly from our respected places on the sofas. Then, shortly after, she was out cold asleep. She should be so lucky. I only wished I could fall asleep. My eyes drooped tiredly, to the point where it was almost painful. I stifled a yawn. But rest assured, I would be awake when Ron and Harry returned.

It was almost morning, it had to be. The grand clock that hung over the curtained entranced, embossed with the Gryffindor crest, read 4:03 AM. With each minute that passed by, my concern heightened. There hadn't been a noise coming from anywhere in the castle. I reached over the coffee table and took Ginny's tea cup. Hoping desperately it would calm my nerve, its temperature only made me even colder. Not to mention its terrible taste.

I sighed.

Ginny looked so calm and peaceful. But the maternal instinct in me kicked in, and I assumed the poor girl must be frozen to the bone. She wasn't even wearing robes. I figured I would hurry up to my dormitory and fetch a blanket, when I suddenly heard the dull roar of voices.

"Ginny!" I hissed. "Ginny, wake up! I think they're coming."

She shot up, eyes still half closed. "Wh-wha? Where are they? What time is it? Wh-why are we still in the common room?"

I ignored most of the questions, besides one. "I think the assembly just got out. Listen closely, you can hear them."

"It's three o'clock in the bleeding morning!" Ginny exclaimed, figuring out the time for herself. Her mouth gaped open as she looked at me. I simply nodded tiredly. Inside, my heart was pounding straight through my chest. Finally, after three grueling hours, I was about to get some answers. The rumble of the voices was getting closer. Ginny and I both stared at the portrait hole, on pins and needles.

I could faintly hear the mumble of Neville Longbottom as he said, "Brass batwings." Immediately, the portrait swung open. All at once, the Great Hall was suddenly filled with boys, who all directly headed for the boy's dormitory stairs. The look on their faces shook me to my core.

Many were crying, some softly to themselves, some openly wept aloud. A few groups of them huddled together, talking fast and low. But all of them wore the same bleak expression. Like everything that they had come to know and love was about to change completely.

I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd for a patch of red hair.

The line coming in through the portrait hole was thinning out. And finally, there stood Ron and Harry. They were talking, low under their breaths, to a few others. I could make out Dean Thomas, Neville, and Seamus Finnigan in the darkness.

I couldn't contain myself.

"Ron!"

All five heads turned in our direction. I couldn't quite make out their facial expressions, but within a few seconds, Dean, Neville and Seamus were headed up the winding stairs. Both Ron and Harry stood there for a few moments. I felt Ginny beside me.

A moment longer and I was going to lose it. This had been, by far, one of the most stressful evenings of my life. I was just ready for it to be over, for us all to wake up in the morning and go eat breakfast and talk about how ghastly the day's lessons were going to be. I was on the brink of hysteria.

Finally, they approached us.

"Hermione, why are you still awake?" Ron asked. Something was off, in the same way Hagrid had been earlier. His eyes fidgeted around the room, anywhere but to mine. Harry seemed suddenly very interested with his shoes, keeping his eyes fixated on them.

I stood there, shivering in the same clothes I had on earlier. Hours of thinking and everything I thought I would definitely say was silenced. I explained myself.

"What do you mean? I was waiting up until you got back! Tell me what happened down there! What was so important, than McGonagall kept you until now? Why is everyone so upset? Why- why aren't you answering me?" My questions slowed.

Ron still hadn't looked me in the eyes. Harry and him exchanged a fleeting glance, silently debating telling us at all. I felt like I was standing in front of two complete strangers. And I was losing it. Beside me, Ginny simply stared at Harry patiently. How the _fuck_ was she so calm!

Tears began to stream down my face involuntarily. "Ron, look at me!" I shouted. Even my own voice rang in my ears after all of the hush.

Jumping slightly, I finally locked eyes with him.

Sensing my desperation, he slowly took my arm and led me back to the sofa.

"I think it's best if you sit down."

I did as he told me. "Now, why has everyone-?" I began, only to be shut down by Ron once more. He was taking off his robes, and wrapping around my shoulders.

"You look cold."

"Ron, I don't give a toad's ass about the temperature! I'll live. Now tell me everything!" I unwillingly however allowed him to offer me his robes. My teeth were to the point of chattering.

I could feel the thoughts and phrases juggling around inside that brilliant mind of his. He was like my favorite book that I could read over and over again, and still be astounded by the storyline. And right now, I was reading him quite well. I knew he didn't want to tell me. I could sense it; it was wafting off of him in great, fearful waves. Like being pulled by magnets or strings, my hand lifted and was placed on the softest part of his hands.

"Hermione," He began carefully. "The professors weren't the only ones at the assembly tonight. There were Aurors. Federally appointed wizards and witches. Even the Minister of Magic."

I gasped.

"Yeah…" He gathered his thoughts, trying to figure out what to reveal next. His hands fidgeted underneath mine in his lap as he leaned forward, on edge. "They told us that Voldemort is building an army. The Black Army, 's what they called it officially."

He studied my face letting the information sink in. I had never heard him say Voldemort's name so confidently, without hesitation or a stutter. The thought of hundreds of Death Eaters sent a chill down my spine. But I took a deep breath and nodded for him to continue.

"Naturally, the Ministry finds it in our best interest to strengthen our Order. So… They want to build an army of their own. An army trained in wizarding combat." He paused again. The pieces were all in place; I just needed to solve the puzzle.

"Were they trying to convince more of you to become Aurors, or something? We have quite a few; at least the last time I read something about it-"

"Not convince." The way he spoke made me shut up instantly. "Recruit."

All the blood drained out of my face. I felt myself getting nauseatingly dizzy. _Surely_ not. Surely this wasn't what it had come to. I pulled – searched- my brain for any explanation as to why the Ministry would organize something like this.

"B-but I don't understand… There have to be over a hundred Aurors."

Ron nodded grimly. "A hundred and twenty-three. All highly trained and certified."

I shook my head reverently. There was something that he didn't want to say, and Merlin as my witness, I would coax it out of him. "Then why here, tonight? What is it that they expect of you? Voldemort is only as powerful as his followers, why, there can't be more than that!"

"Seven thousand, more or less."

Ginny and I both had the exact same reaction. Our gasps could have sucked all of the oxygen out of the common room. Tears sprang to my eyes as I was suddenly realizing what had taken place in the Great Hall that night. The Ministry was _drafting _them. All of them. The scared faces of the fifteen-year-old boys spun wildly thru my thoughts. This was an outrage! Every part of it screamed criminal, barbaric even. My mouth bobbed up and down a few times, before I finally gathered the strength to speak. "But Ron, they are just boys. _You - _" I nodded at Harry and him. " – are just boys! They don't have the training to support this kind of assignment! How can they do this!" My sobs became uncontrollable. "How can they force you all to enlist, just like that?"

I caught Ron's glance at Harry. And suddenly, I realized that Harry had not spoken a word since he had returned. Nor had he looked up from his seated position next to Ginny, who was stroking his back soothingly. For all of the smarts in the world, I would have traded in that moment for a hint of what was going on. My head whipped back and forth between the two, reading them desperately.

After what seemed like ages, Ron spoke.

"They aren't forcing anyone." It was barely audible.

Sudden realization swept over me. All of the sadness, the agony that I had just felt was replaced by something else entirely. Rage surged through my veins. The ability to speak was beyond my recognition. Trembling, I stood.

"Y-you mean to tell me… That you _volunteered_?"

Ron looked completely mute. His mouth bobbed up and down in that bloody stupid way it always did when he was at a loss of words. My accusation had been dead accurate.

"I told him not to! Begged him even!" Harry's trembling body now towered over the couch from which he was sitting; his fists were clenched into tight, rigid balls. Through gritted teeth, he continued. "He wouldn't listen to me! None of them would!" He was suddenly charging towards Ron, who was now standing his own ground. Ginny leaped up, her grip tightening on Harry's robs. It was then that Ron spoke through his own hot tears.

"I had to! You couldn't possibly be daft enough to even THINK that I would let anyone else protect you!"

Ginny's grip was slipping.

Harry's shrieks were painful. "Who the bloody fuck do you think you are? Some kind of hero? You don't understand what this means, do you? You don't understand what this will do to the people you love, your parents, your siblings, _her_!" Harry's shaking finger was inches from my face. It felt like I was staring down the barrel of a loaded rifle.

"Wh-what does he mean, Ron?" My breathing was uneven. "What have you done?"

I asked for answers, but in my heart, deep down, I knew I wasn't ready to receive them. Ron's mouth was moving; it became nearly impossible to take it all in. From what I could comprehend, he was speaking of a high degree combat squad, titled the 'Golden Phoenixes'. Their sole mission, should they choose to engage it, was to prevent any harm to Harry. When it came down to it in the final battle, the code named GP was to stand in the way of any Death Eater attempting to get to him before Voldemort. They knew the Prophecy; they knew it was to be fulfilled. But in the sequence it was originally made, and without any interference. The closest people to Harry were involved. Dean, Seamus and Neville had all signed the dotted line. And to my deepest sorrow, Ron.

And that was when I felt the last string of sanity I was holding on so desperately to snap. Even my fingernails felt heavy and weighted to the carpet. I was literally shaking with fury. The chattering of my teeth began, and it had nothing to do with the autumn chill. No, suddenly, I was sweating, boiling hot, from head to toe. I ripped Ron's robs from my shoulders.

"But that's – that's impossible!" I didn't recognize the sounds I was making. "It's insanity! It's bloody _SUICIDE_!"

And it was then that I saw Ronald Weasley cry for the first time. His freckles were wet, as was his watery voice as he pleaded for me to gather some understanding. An understanding which I would never value.

"'Mione, please listen to me." His arms were spread, desperately seeking me. "I have to go, I have to protect Harry. No one is more qualified than I am. I know Harry, and I know the ways of Voldemort – I've helped fight him before! I can do it again!" The warmth of his body was crashing into mine. I was going to boil over. The kettle was about to burn. Every syllable he pronounced felt like betrayal. He was willing to die for Harry. As I would be too, and I knew it. If the shoe was on the other foot, and I was expected to take a hit for either one of them, I would do it without as much as a thought. But this, this seemed like the final word to end everything. And I had no say in it.

"Don't **touch **me!" I exploded, and before even I knew what I was doing, the palm of my hand was colliding with his flustered cheek. I gasped. Ginny gasped. The smack seemed to reverberate in the distance. And I so badly wanted him to slap me back, to force me to take the reins of reality. But all he did was stand there and take it. I had never seen him look so hurt.

But I couldn't stop. My hands were suddenly beating into his chest, with all of the fury and pain I held behind them. I was screaming at the top of my lungs and even then it still felt like I was whispering. He didn't move. Statuesque, his bloodshot eyes gazing into mine. My screaming turned into racking sobs that hurt with every breath. Without warning, my knees gave way.

"'Mione, please." He whimpered, grabbing onto my wrists and pulling me up.

This was all I could physically endure. The pain, the anger, the sorrow were all soon masked by guilt. An extraordinary guilt that I couldn't bear. I should be blanketed in my spot, my arms wrapped around him, comforting him. He should be the unfathomable mess, and I should be telling him that everything would be alright in the end. Ginny, for such a young soul, stood on strong ground as she witnessed my outburst, holding Harry's hand the entire time. I couldn't stomach my selfishness.

I had to get out.

Yanking my hands out of Ron's gentile grasps, I was running for the portrait hole.

I could hear voices, though they were indistinguishable, in my tracks. But I didn't dare turn around.

And though I had no clue as to where I was headed, I knew that I never wanted to face them again.

I was running down the endless corridors, crying harder with each pound of my flats –

"Hermione!"

My eyes crinkled. I wasn't ready to wake up – there was still more to the tale. But Ginny Weasley's annoyingly assertive voice, combined with her lighting of all of the torches in the room, yanked me out of my memories quicker than I could grasp.

Grudgingly, my eyes fluttered open.

She stood there, at the end of my bed, holding a silver lidded plate in one hand and a goblet in the other. Her face was stern; one could never guess that she was only seventeen. When did she become such an adult?

"You missed dinner."

I scoffed and tried my best to sit up against the headboard.

"Ah, yes. So I did." Sarcasm dripped.

"You have to keep your strength up, Hermione!" She was scolding me, and with the flick of her wand, the goblet and plate were floating in front of me. The lid hovered away, revealing its contents. Roasted goose breast, garlic beets, asparagus drowning in some yellow tinted sauce… it all looked so delicious. My mouth practically salivated. But my stomach turned at the sight of it.

Ginny saw my reaction. She clicked her tongue. "At least drink the pumpkin juice, would you?"

I could have gagged imagining how terrible it would taste with the lingering taste of firewhiskey in my mouth.

Her eyes adverted to the empty flask beside me on the nightstand. I expected her to yell at me, as she always did whenever she caught me in such conditions, but instead she just closed her eyes.

"You really shouldn't be drinking that, you know." The tone of it was anything but repressive. She was wholeheartedly concerned.

There was that guilt feeling again.

My hand absentmindedly drifted to my rounded stomach peeking out from my robes.

"Yeah, I know."

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><p>Like? I have big, exciting ideas for this story. Review away. Let me know if it's worth continuing.<p>

Also, if you are as big of a Gossip Girl fan as I am, check out my other story in progress.

Xoxo.


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